


Underhanded

by Misty_Reeyus



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, Snowball Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 20:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5799853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misty_Reeyus/pseuds/Misty_Reeyus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Estelle is the one who starts it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underhanded

****Estelle’s the one who started it, Yuri will insist later, as both of them clamber frantically to the fireplace for warmth and Judith and Karol chide them for goofing around in the cold for so long. Estelle won’t argue that, because she did, but she’ll also point out that if she hadn’t started it Yuri _would_ have, and he won’t argue that either.

But Estelle _is_ the one who starts it.

Estelle is the one who first succumbs to impish temptation, setting down her shovel in favor of picking up some snow, which she silently packs between her gloved hands. She glances towards Yuri, who stands a little ways away, slumped over his own shovel as they both take a quick break from their chore. They’re almost done, the headquarters’ entryway is almost entirely cleared of snow, but the work has been as tiring as it is boring—and when boredom strikes, the mind tends to turn to mischief.

Estelle blames Yuri for rubbing that off on her.

Once the snow in her hands is compact, Estelle sizes up her target and bites back a giggle as she lets her ammo fly. Her aim is true, and the snowball hits smack dab in the back of Yuri’s head, splattering pure white against the dark of his hair. Yuri visibly freezes up, and Estelle watches in anticipation as his arm reaches back to touch the area.

Slowly, very slowly, he turns around.

Estelle doesn’t even try to play innocent, bursting out laughing the instant their gazes meet. Yuri gapes at her for only a few seconds before a smirk splits across his face and his shovel hits the pavement. 

“Oh, it is _on_ , princess!”

Yuri ducks down so fast that before Estelle is even aware of it, the snowball is already formed in his hands. His arm rears back and Estelle shrieks, scrambling to the side to dodge, only barely avoiding the hit as the projectile whizzes by her shoulder. She tries to scoop up her own snow to fight back but Yuri’s faster, striking her in the side with impeccable aim, and the next snowball Estelle lobs in his direction doesn’t even get _close_ to him, Yuri cackling as he evades and lands one right in her chest.

Estelle is thoroughly outmatched, she realizes quickly, which admittedly she probably should have considered _before_ she challenged him. Yuri is capable of expertly throwing pebbles at pursuing knights from great distances; of _course_ a snowball fight would be right up his alley. In a long-range match like this, she stands zero chance.

Okay then. Change of plans.

Estelle takes one more hit to the chest before dropping her own ammunition and opting instead to just _run_ , and another snowball manages to get her square in the back before she ducks for cover behind a snow-covered decorative hedge. The reprieve won’t last long, but at least it buys her some time to catch her breath. Footfall soon resounds from the other side of the bush, indicating Yuri’s approach, and Estelle tenses up, readying herself.

“You can’t hide, Estelle,” Yuri laughs, stepping around the bush. He smirks down at her, snowball in hand, arm poised to strike—

Estelle _pounces_ straight at him, sending them both down to the ground, and she lets a victorious grin split her face when Yuri yelps in surprise and his weaponry crumbles in his hand. Straddling his hips between her legs, Estelle snatches each of his wrists with one of her mitten-covered hands and pins them down into the snow. 

“I wasn’t trying to,” Estelle taunts back, reveling in the success of her plan to bait him into tackling distance. This way, she at least has a chance—her upper body strength is an _easy_ match for his and she’s more than capable of subduing him if it’s in a close-combat wrestling brawl.

Yuri glares up at her, his arms straining against hers in a futile attempt to get them free, then abruptly _twists_ his hips beneath her, flipping them both over. He grapples with her in the snow, laughingly trying to push her own hands down, and Estelle squeals, batting him away until she manages to roll them both over again so that she’s back on top.

Yuri’s hands are free now, though, and before Estelle can even think of grabbing them again, Yuri tosses her a wicked grin and _shoves_ snow right into her face. Estelle immediately sputters on the wet and cold, instinctively reaching up to wipe at her face, and by the time she realizes her mistake, it’s too late. The next thing she knows, she’s on her back on the ground, Yuri’s dark eyes sparkling vindictively as he looms over her.

He shoots his hands underneath her coat, his gloves still covered in snow, and Estelle gasps when cold slush starts seeping through her shirt, clinging wet to her skin. Yuri just chuckles and starts running his hands all over her stomach, purposely rubbing the snow in to make it worse. Estelle frantically thrashes and pounds her fists against him, shrieking in protest because that’s _freezing_ and it _tickles_ and Yuri is so so horribly _mean_ —!

“Give up yet?” Yuri snickers, high and mighty—and Estelle nods instantly in surrender.

“You win, you win!”

That’s enough, thankfully, and Estelle gasps breathlessly as Yuri mercifully pulls his hands out. Once she has some oxygen as well as her composure back, Estelle huffs, miffed, and delivers a halfhearted smack to Yuri’s shoulder. This only seems to amuse him, as his smirk spreads wider.

“That was dirty,” Estelle complains. “Going for the face.”

“Hey, you started it,” Yuri fires back, victorious and smug. “ _And_ you were the one who wanted to get up close and personal.” It’s all true, too, so Estelle can’t do anything more than pout in defeat and sink back even deeper into the snow, shivering as she crosses her arms. She’s definitely going to need to change clothes after this—her shirt is now thoroughly soaked beneath her coat, and in their tussle, the confines of her boots came free, so now even her socks feel wet too.

But when Estelle meets Yuri’s gaze again, his face is flushed red and his arrogant smirk has softened into a gentle smile, one that gets butterflies fluttering in her stomach and warmth blooming in her chest. Yuri bends down, his face inching closer as if to kiss her, and Estelle licks her lips. At the side, her hand dips down and clenches around some snow, and for a moment, she runs over the pros and cons in her head, debates whether or not she should shove this in his face and get him back for earlier—

“Don’t you start that again,” Yuri warns, eying her hand carefully, pointedly. Estelle giggles sheepishly at having been caught before letting the snowball crumble harmlessly past her fingers and curling her arms around his neck. She tugs him close, lightly touching her nose to his, feeling the warmth of his breath linger in the cold distance between their mouths.

“Like I said,” Estelle murmurs, her lips brushing against his. “You win.”


End file.
